Knocking On Heaven's Door
by namistai
Summary: [IchigoRukia] Rated R for language, sexual references (later on). A look into the minds of our favorite female Shinigami and the ever scowling, hot headed Ichigo and their complex relationship. Because they shouldn't fall in love. UPDATED 040405
1. Chapter 1: In the Middle of the Night

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach. The fabulous Kubo Taito does.

**Author's Notes:** Ichigo/Rukia. Just recently started watching the anime. No, I haven't read the manga. If they are out of character, I apologize in advance but do realize THIS is fan fiction. Do you scream at the doushinji artist because they don't draw EXACTLY like the artist? No. Besides, this is all about getting creative.

And yes, this will be a multi-chaptered story. Yes, this will be I/R. Yes, it will have angst and romance as appropriate for a 15 year old boy and a death spirit. It's a shame. There should be more Bleach fanfics out there. But perhaps, those are just the feverish imaginings of this particular author.

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**Chapter 1: In the middle of the night**

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Rukia stared at the face of her cell phone, wishing it would ring and wishing it wouldn't. Because if it did ring, she'd bust out of her makeshift room, grab Ichigo and go do what they did best – kick big bad Hollow ass. But then, they would come back home, Ichigo would fall asleep and she would be left in the dark to ponder their latest mission.

If it didn't ring, she would simply stay inside this closet with her increasingly convoluted thoughts, awake and thinking. She didn't sleep. Not really. She hadn't slept in a long time. Technically, she passed out from sheer exhaustion or simply rested for a few hours, giving her powers a chance to recharge. Even in those periods of her resting, although she appeared asleep, she wasn't; her consciousness floating at the top of her being like a lily pad in a pond. She had not slumbered in lifetimes.

She didn't make noise. It wasn't in deference to Ichigo, who was sleeping just a few feet away from her. It was just her habit, her way of being after having done so for so many centuries. It had been drilled into her mercilessly until she could no longer remember a time when she had not flitted through life, barely a rustle, a ripple in the fabric of reality.

Even now, in her weakened state and this borrowed body, she was quiet. Too quiet for the young girl her visage showed to the mortal world. Too still. No unnecessary movements, no flutterings, none of the insecure nervousness that was part of being a young girl. In fact, she was no longer old, she was ageless. She may look like a young girl but she was neither. She was a Shinigami, a death dealer, a spirit that knew neither age nor sex nor gender. For her, time had stretched endlessly, her only mission to destroy the Hollows and send the lingering ghosts on their way to Soul Society. That was her duty, her task that spawned centuries, stretching limitless and merciless. Like Sisyphus, it never ended but unlike the Greek myth, she had accepted her fate. It wasn't difficult when she barely had contact with mortals and she could barely remember what it was to be mortal herself.

Until now.

Now, a mortal carried out her duties. Granted, he wasn't an ordinary mortal. No ordinary mortal could see ghosts or could have broken from the demon path incantation, even despite formidable spiritual energy. Ichigo was an aberration, an anomaly in her balanced black and white world.

It was her fault really. She should have been more careful, listened harder. But he startled her and then gotten under her skin. She hadn't been hit for a long time. The surprising factor that he could actually see her was another shock to her system. But she had lost her focus and her temper when he had called her an annoying brat. His gall simply annoyed her. She would have expected fear or stunned disbelief, not disrespect and taunting.

So she had to teach him a lesson. She forgot about the Hollow she had been seeking and wasted time with a mortal. An extraordinary mortal, but a mortal nonetheless.

When the Hollow attacked, she had been unprepared. More importantly, Ichigo had broken the Demon Path incantation and put himself in harm's way. In a desperate attempt to make up for her negligence, she had saved him but injured herself in the process.

And in a monumental gamble to save them all, she had offered to share her powers with him.

It had worked. And it had backfired on her. Ichigo managed to siphon most of her powers. The more she thought about it, it was a miracle she even survived. He could have just drained her completely of her powers, obliterating her existence.

That unleashed a chain reaction. Furious at the loss of her powers and Ichigo's refusal to honor her duties, she ripped his astral self from his body and forced him to honor them. She knew he wouldn't stand there and do nothing. He would care. But she had still forced him there, to make the right choice, placed him in a situation in which he would have to choose to do it.

She was angry at herself. Angry that she couldn't do her job. Angry that someone else had to. Angry that it was an untrained mortal, no matter if he took to it like fish take to water, that had to fulfill her duty. Angry that she made him do it. Angry that he did it. Angry that he never really listens to her. Angry that she is sending Ichigo so ill-prepared into so much danger.

Angry that it was her fault. He shouldn't have to do it. It was her job. She was supposed to protect people from the Hollows. Restore the balance so that life could go on undisturbed. Even his life, no matter if he could glimpse some of the struggle and the residue. It wasn't his place. It wasn't his battle. It wasn't his burden.

And she couldn't apologize. How do you say 'I'm sorry I fucked up your life'? You don't. Because you don't say shit like that.

She couldn't even say 'Your life is going to be a living hell until I get my powers back'? Because there was no timeline, no actual end in sight. Although this was surely a temporary arrangement, Rukia didn't know when it would all be over. So, she didn't speak about it. What was there to say? She knew what she had forced Ichigo to do. She knew the price that had to be paid for doing her duty. It seemed like she was mocking him for apologizing for knowing she'd put him through Hell and still doing it.

Because then, she hadn't thought twice about it. It needed to be done. So she did. If now she regretted it, it was merely the manner in which she did it. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Rukia consoled herself that eventually, she would get her powers back and leave Ichigo in peace. She would be out of his life and he could go on and try to lead a relatively normal human life. She would give back what she had taken from him: his sister's clothes, his closet, his room, his privacy, his independence, _his life_.

She would give it all back. And walk away. She would be back to being a Shinigami and he would be back to being an extraordinary mortal.

Rukia wondered why she wasn't looking forward to that day. She would be absolved of all her guilt. She could let go of her anger then. She would leave this mortal world.

And she would never see Ichigo again.

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Author's Notes: Comments, reviews and suggestions appreciated. Constructive criticism is appreciated, flames will be sacrificed to a dark spirit and I will send a Hollow after you.

_Next chapter: Ichigo's reflections on Rukia and his role as a temporary Shinigami_


	2. Chapter 2: Seeing in the Darkness

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach. The fabulous Kubo Taito does.

**Author's Notes:** Ichigo/Rukia. Just recently started watching the anime. No, I haven't read the manga. If they are out of character, I apologize in advance but do realize THIS is fan fiction. Do you scream at the doushinji artist because they don't draw EXACTLY like the artist? No. Besides, this is all about getting creative.

And yes, this will be a multi-chaptered story. Yes, this will be I/R. Yes, it will have angst and romance as appropriate for a 15 year old boy and a death spirit. It's a shame. There should be more Bleach fanfics out there. But perhaps, those are just the feverish imaginings of this particular author.

**SxStrngSamurai13 and Corchan :** Yes, if you could tell me where I can get some Bleach manga, hit me up with an email. My budget doesn't allow me to actually buy at the moment, but somewhere where I can get an idea of plot would be good. And no, I haven't even read a single one of the manga. Most of my inspiration comes from the anime.

**SxStrngSamurai13: **What is up with all the yaoi pairings when its obvious it isn't about boy/boy romance? Bah.

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Chapter 2: Seeing in the Darkness

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Ichigo looked at the closed closet door. It was past midnight, he was tired and yet he couldn't sleep. He wished he could just go back to sleep but half of his person was anticipating Rukia throwing open the closet door and hustling him to another mission against a Hollow. It was strange to think of how quickly he had become a light sleeper. Not that he'd ever been a deep sleeper, his father would have taken advantage of his unguarded state and given him a severe beatdown.

But even then, it wasn't like this. Before, he had gotten rest. Now, he seemed to hover between consciousness and unconsciousness, the line distinguishing them blurry. First it had been the ghosts, now it was his honoring of Rukia's duty.

Little witch. She had forced him into it. She had saved his life and his family, struck a devil's bargain with him and now he was responsible for dispatching Hollows and making sure that the restless found their way to Heaven.

There were days he wished he was just like any other guy. Any other guy who had to go to school, deal with a crazy family and do homework. Any other guy whose most important extracurricular activities were girls. Live ones.

But no. His life had to be different. Seeing and dealing with ghosts was one thing. Dealing with a Shinigami that either ignored him or gave him shit every day that just happened to live in his closet was another.

He didn't get it. How did such a little girl become a death dealer, a silent, fierce determined killer. Oh, she could kick ass alright. She just shouldn't have to fucking brag about it all the time. Fine, she was a lean, mean killing machine but she was still a _girl_.

She was so small and delicate. She fit inside his closet! Comfortably! Normally he would think of girls like that as fragile. But Rukia was far from fragile. She was tough. Ichigo wondered if centuries of killing did that to you. Made you tougher than steel and unfeeling as metal. Not that she was evil, she was obviously on the good side. But she fulfilled her duties with blind obedience, an unwavering faith in her role in the world.

Ichigo wondered what sort of people let a girl become a cold blooded killer.

But she proved she could be more than that. In school, she was polite, courteous, smiling. She never acted like she was anything else but a classmate of his. If the guys knew that she spent a good time of amount in his room, he would never live it down. He knew his friends thought she was cute. And she was. In the small, package of deadly cute. Psychotic coldblooded Shinigami girl kind of way.

This was the time of night that Ichigo hated. When he was tired but his mind was awake and there was nothing to do but think and think and think some more. And he would turn his thoughts inside and out and get nowhere, except more confused and frustrated.

When did his life become such a mess?

Ever since she walked into his life. Ever since he caught a glimpse of her, ferocious and silent, fluttering through life like a black butterfly. He had caught her by surprise that one night, kicking her.

Since then, nothing had been the same.

He knew he had always been different. Ever since he started to be able to see ghosts. But that didn't mean anything. Not like being a Shinigami meant something. It was just temporary. One day, Rukia would recuperate, take all her power back and leave his life. The little brat would probably not tell him. She would simply leave, without even a goodbye note. He would be tossed aside, forgotten and then he would have to get on with the rest of his life.

Why the hell was he the only one that lost sleep over it? There she was, covered in blankets, sleeping the sleep of the just and righteous.

What was he to her? A temporary replacement? A partner? Someone she failed to protect and is now paying the consequences of? Were they even friends? Did he want to be friends with her? I mean, who goes around being friends with a goddamn Death dealer?

A death dealer with serious eyes and a faint smile. A death dealer that looked like a porcelain doll. A death dealer that made him scowl and made him think and made him want to touch her face.

Rukia.

Oh, he admired her dedication and conviction, even when it made him want to throw up. He admired her guts. He had respect for the fact that she was constantly kicking his ass.

But Ichigo didn't like it. Didn't like how she had barged into his life. Didn't like how she had taken over his closet and his room. Didn't like how she still made little cute pictures with bunnies. Didn't like how she was hauling him off to fight Hollows at any hour of the day. Didn't like how she was constantly lecturing him. Didn't like how she kicked his ass whenever she felt like it. Didn't like how shiny her eyes got when her expression would soften. Didn't like how she had taken over his life, even in school. Didn't like how she ignored him. Didn't like how he was just another classmate to her in school and an annoying partner at best and a nuisance at worst the rest of the time.

Sometimes, he just wanted to shake her hard. Knock some sense into her. Tell her she wasn't a Shinigami anymore. Tell her it was all her fault. Tell her it was okay to feel. Tell her he didn't hate her. Tell her she was a girl and she had to take care of herself because it was a big bad world out there. Tell her he was able to take care of it. Tell her, he'd be okay without her.

Because he'd be okay without her. He'd survive without the pint-sized Shinigami fairy that had landed into his life and turned it around. Because he had to. Because she would leave him. Because she was a Shinigami. Because he was just a mortal, despite his obvious spiritual powers. Because that was life and there was nothing he could do about it.

Everyone leaves. And someone always gets left behind. Why would this time be any different?

Ichigo stared at the closet door one last time before he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

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**Author's Notes: **May rewrite this chapter. Trying to capture the insomniac thoughts of a 15 year old hormonal teenage boy with extraordinary powers is tricky. I'm pleased with it, but I don't know if I did Ichigo justice. 


	3. Chapter 3: Homework Blues

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach. The fabulous Kubo Taito does.

**Author's Notes:** Ichigo/Rukia. Just recently started watching the anime (up to episode 5). No, I haven't read the manga yet. I have the first seven volumes now. If they are out of character, I apologize in advance but do realize THIS is fan fiction. Do you scream at the doushinji artist because they don't draw EXACTLY like the artist? No. Besides, this is all about getting creative.

And yes, this will be a multi-chaptered story. Yes, this will be I/R. Yes, it will have angst and romance as appropriate for a 15 year old boy and a death spirit. It's a shame. There should be more Bleach fanfics out there. But perhaps, those are just the feverish imaginings of this particular author.

**To everyone that told me where to find the manga (and I know who you are because I read the reviews):** Thanks! I don't want to download IRC though. If anyone knows of a bittorent site, let me know.

**To TheMusesTKandZy:** I sort of know about Renji. But not really. Worry not. There will be plenty of angst about that later.

**To ilikesaddleshoes**: Thanks for the bunnies.

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**Chapter 3: Homework Blues**

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Ichigo entered his room and scowled. He couldn't get a single minute of privacy anywhere. Not even in his own room. All he wanted was to catch a small break between school and the rest of his life. He just wanted five minutes. Five minutes when it was just himself. No one else.

But no, she was already there. Doing homework. He couldn't say anything to her. He couldn't kick her out. They both needed to do their schoolwork. Keep up the pretense of being 'normal'. He knew that she tried very hard to appear 'normal' in front of everyone else. Even picking up those horrible horror novels to learn how to speak 'just like everyone else'.

She was already using _his_ textbooks to do the homework they had both been assigned. She couldn't use just one, but seemed to be in the middle of doing the homework for three _different_ subjects. And of course, she couldn't use the desk and confine her mess but had taken over the floor.

"I left you the desk," she said evenly, not even looking up from her work, scribbling calculations on a piece of paper.

Ichigo felt conflicting emotions. It was _his_ desk after all. But it was still considerate of her to let him use it. But he should use it! It was his! Did it matter? She had already taken over _his_ life, _his_ time, _his_ room, _his_ closet, _his_ books, even _his _floor. Why hadn't she taken over the desk?

He moved to put his book bag on the desk. He happened to glance at her calculations and saw that she made a mistake. "Oi, you made a mistake," he said to her.

She gave him a dirty look.

It made Ichigo want to roll his eyes. She hated to be corrected. It's like she took it personally when he pointed out her flaws. He was only trying to be helpful. But oh no, Miss Perfect Killing Machine Shinigami couldn't make a mistake. Even in math, which he knew for a fact was her worst school subject. What the hell did they teach them at that Soul Reaper Academy anyway?

Aside from being able to slice and dice a Hollow in thirty different ways.

He sat down next to her on the floor and pointed at her paper. "There. You set up the equation wrong," he said exasperated. He took the pencil from her hand and corrected her work.

She snatched the pencil back. "Thank you. But I would have been able to correct the problem on my own," she said.

It made Ichigo want to tear his hair out. Why was she so freaking stubborn? Both she and he knew that she wouldn't have been able to do it on her own. It was exactly like that time when Karin had collapsed and he had to take her home and Rukia had said she'd take care of the Hollow. He had made her promise to take care of herself. He knew that she was still weak.

She hadn't been able to take care of herself. It had been painfully obvious to him that she had been outmatched, just looking at her torn up and bloodied uniform. He had been angry at her then, even when he didn't show it. Hadn't he made it clear that she had to show some reason and not place herself in unnecessary danger? Not that he believed she would listen to him. She never did.

And she had thrown his concern back at him. Saying that he didn't really care and that he shouldn't act like he did.

But he did. Not that he would let her know. So he had replied with his own sardonic comment. Like he couldn't see the relief in her eyes when he had shown up.

Rukia would think he was weak. Or an idiot. Or throw it back on his face. He wasn't supposed to care. She was a Shinigami. She had no use for what she would undoubtedly call 'foolish human emotions'. She would worry that his concern with her would negatively impact his performance of her duties.

"Ichigo, you need to do your homework," Rukia said quietly, bringing him out of his reverie.

He found that she was looking calmly at him. Their faces mere inches apart. Normally, when Rukia's face was up that close, her features would be distorted because she was yelling at him. Normally, he wouldn't notice how soft her skin looked, how bright her serious eyes were, how cute her little nose was. Normally, he'd be yelling back. Now, his throat was dry and he couldn't stop staring at her.

Her eyes narrowed and she looked back intensely at him, moving her fact a few inches closer. "Are you well?" she asked, trying to assess the situation.

The words stuck in his throat. Rukia's face was all he could see. He wanted to jump up and runaway. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her. He had never kissed a girl before in his life. But he wanted to kiss Rukia. Kami, what was wrong with him? He wanted to kiss Rukia! When did his life become such a fucking mess?

So he nodded his head, as the rest of him just stayed in shock over what he had just thought.

She scrutinized him for another second before return her attention to her work. "If you need assistance with your Japanese homework, I can help you," she said quietly.

She didn't like to feel indebted. So she offered her help in exchange of his earlier assistance. That's the way it worked with Rukia. She helped him, he helped her.

Ichigo snuck one last look at Rukia's profile before he started on his own homework. He needed to focus. Perhaps he needed more sleep. That would explain why he came up with the utterly absurd idea of kissing Rukia. Maybe she was right and he was coming down with the flu. His stomach did feel a bit queasy and his hands felt a little clammy. He must be coming down with something. Not that he'd tell Rukia that she had been right. She'd just use it as an excuse to boss him around.

He didn't notice Rukia sneaking a glance at him.

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**Author's Note:** Sorry. Ran out of steam at the end and I couldn't remember the exact phrases in their dialogue when Ichigo shows up (during that parakeet/Chad/Hollow episode). If anyone can remind me what the names of Ichigo's friends are (I have Chad down – what are the names of the other 2, the playboy that looks innocent and the other one), it would be greatly appreciated. I'll try to read the manga sometime before the next update.

_Next Chapter: On the roof of the school, Ichigo and the boys talk._


	4. Chapter 4: In the Sanctuary

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach. The fabulous Kubo Taito does.

**Author's Notes:** Ichigo/Rukia. Finally got around to reading the manga. Read up to ch. 144 (thanks to the people in Manga Rain, despite their attitude. I appreciate what they do, I respect their desire not to be distributed… I just don't understand their almost freakish desire to control what people do after they download it. Let's face it, everyone makes choices. You can't dictate people's choices. My only real beef with them is the use of IRC as their downloading system). Up to date with the anime, episode 8.

And yes, this will be a multi-chaptered story. Yes, this will be I/R. Yes, it will have angst and romance as appropriate for a 15 year old boy and a death spirit. It's a shame. There should be more Bleach fanfics out there. But perhaps, those are just the feverish imaginings of this particular author.

**To everyone: **Thanks for the patience. It's been a rough month. I don't need pity reviews so I'll just apologize for the delay. Given what I know, I decided to change what chapter 4 was going to be about and the perspective it was written in.

**Beware SPOILERS**: I have read up to the manga ch. 144. I don't know how this will affect everything. It's hard to "unlearn" what you know. Especially when you want to throw the characters into an introspective look. If something doesn't make sense or if it seems a little strange, or if it spoils something, I'm sorry. But in my head, it makes sense.

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**Chapter 4: In the Sanctuary**

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Ordinarily, she would listen to what Keigo-san was jabbering about if only to be on the lookout against one of his passes. Normally, it would amuse her and although she would never admit it even if outnumbered by Hollows, she was mildly flattered. After all, Keigo-san thought she was pretty enough to flirt with.

But today, she had no patience to follow the conversation of the boys. She had not meant to be eating lunch with the boys again but she had needed a word with Ichigo and before she knew it, they had been swarmed by Keigo-san, Mizuiro-san and Sado-san. She had tried to excuse herself politely but Keigo-san had basically manhandled her into staying. Even going as far as trying to sit next to her. He almost succeeded but Ichigo wedged himself between them and Mizuiro-san sat on her other side before Keigo had the chance to get up and move.

So she sat there, a small smile on her face but with her mind turned inwards. There were many things to think about. Rukia simply wasn't used to having to contemplate any problem for long. Usually, most of her problems involved a Hollow or how to best perform her Shinigami duties. And for these problems, there was a protocol to be followed, a ready answer had been supplied. She merely had to execute it, flawlessly.

Now, she was stuck.

Literally. Trapped inside a Gigai body. It was supposed to recharge her Shinigami powers. However, that was not happening. If anything, it seemed like her powers were weakening. There were times where she found it hard to move this artificial body. She had been trying to increase the synchronization rate between her spirit and this shell she had to inhabit, despite the risks.

There was going to be hell to pay when she got back. No Shinigami was gone from the Soul Society so long without permission.

But that was not the explanation she was dreading. How was she going to explain to her captain about Kon? How was she going to explain _Ichigo?_ A simple 'it seemed like a good idea at the moment' was not going to cut it. 'I could not kill them' was not acceptable either.

And she would bring disgrace upon the Kuchiki name through her actions.

Someone placing an open can of soda in front of her brought Rukia out of her reverie. Ichigo said "Here" brusquely and even popped the soda open for her. He didn't look at her but she looked at him. For the sake of everyone else, she offered him a small smile and took the soda between her two small hands.

Her two small hands that have been dealing in steel and death for centuries. Her two hands that didn't even know how to pop open a soda can.

She looked at the boy next to her, who seemed too busy stuffing the food his sister prepared so lovingly for him into his mouth in less than six seconds. She looked at her own lunch that _he_ had smuggled out of his house as a 'double' ration. She looked at the soda that he had spent _his_ money on. His orange hair was brilliant against the blue sky and his gray uniform. This human boy with his arrogance and his cockiness. With his bellowing voice, who yelled back regardless of the circumstances. Who defended those he had sworn to protect, recklessly and with passion. Who tried to act tough, with poorly concealed concern. Who tried to convince everyone he didn't care with a scowl and a few caustic words. Who acted nonchalant if something was too important to talk about.

This human boy made her _think_.

She had seen his face when Urahara had taken Kon's spirit pill. She knew what Kon was, a modified soul. A failed experiment that had outlived its purpose. A soul that needed to be done away with. She knew the disgust that Ichigo had for the entire deal, the creation and destruction of a being simply for Shinigami convenience.

Urahara would have refunded her money. And Kon would have been dealt with. And Ichigo would have hated her for it.

She made a decision and saved Kon.

Rukia wondered why she did. The little bugger was annoying as hell. Although it was nice to be respected, nice to be looked up at. But not like this morning, taking a look up her skirt. The freshness of it all.

It made her self conscious of her appearance. She thought nothing climbing out of Ichigo's closet. She wondered if she had somehow 'flashed' Ichigo as well. She had become acutely aware of just how _short_ her skirt was. And her uniform was form fitting as well, unlike her flowing Shinigami robes. Granted, she did not have the 'assets' that Orihime-chan did.

_Did Ichigo like that? _she wondered.

And then suddenly, Rukia couldn't breathe. Why was she thinking about Ichigo like _that_? She didn't want Ichigo to be interested in her. She really didn't care what Ichigo thought at all! She was Rukia Kuchiki, Shinigami. She really didn't care what an arrogant troublemaker human boy thought.

"Kuchiki-san? Are you alright? You seem a bit flushed," Mizuiro asked concerned.

Rukia reacted almost instantly. "Oh, Mizuiro-san, it's nothing. It's just so hot today," she said with the sweetest voice she could muster, while making a show of fanning herself.

"Che," Ichigo said disdainfully, but with a raised eyebrow. He yawned and stood up, stretching his legs.

"Do you want me to bring you some water, Kuchiki-san?" Keigo asked eagerly.

"Oh no, don't go through all that trouble on my account," Rukia demurred. And wondered briefly why Ichigo hadn't offered to do so. And then she immediately berated herself for that.

"Drink your soda, you should feel better," Ichigo said, his voice booming behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know he was leaning against the protection bars, casting a shadow upon her.

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**Author's Note: **_I will probably be writing about Ichigo and the death of his mother, so spoiler alert for up to anime episode 8 and possibly some Rukia introspection, possible spoiler alert for manga chapters 130-something._


	5. Chapter 5: Hiding in the Dark

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach. The fabulous Kubo Taito does.

**Author's Notes:** Ichigo/Rukia. Up to date on all the 173 chapters of the manga and all the 25 episodes of the anime. I have just been a slacker.

And yes, this will be a multi-chaptered story. Yes, this will be I/R. Yes, it will have angst and romance as appropriate for a 15 year old boy and a death spirit. It's a shame. There should be more Bleach fanfics out there. But perhaps, those are just the feverish imaginings of this particular author.

**To everyone: **Thanks for the patience. I have been a slacker. But here you go. Enjoy. Sorry for the out of characterness and fluffiness but I wanted this story to have more or less a romantic plot, so I am trying to further that idea.

Possible spoilers for episodes 6 and 8-9 of the anime. I can't remember what the manga chapters are. It's been a while.

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**Chapter 5: Hiding in the Dark**

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Rukia stares at the closet ceiling, her thoughts a morass of doubts and questions, things she wish she could ask and doesn't dare to. He would never ignore anyone of her questions for long. Ichigo was not the most forthcoming of people, but even she knew that his blustery manner was just a façade, a mask he wore in front of the world.

She knew because it was the same with her. They were two sides of the same coin. She understood him, only because she understood herself. She did have centuries of experience on him and could understand the things he was only beginning to grasp.

But she still didn't ask. She just wasn't sure anymore what she would say to him.

She didn't want to admire him but she did, almost begrudgingly. It wasn't just the fact that he seemed to carry the weight of her duties with a cavalier attitude. It was in his reckless manner, how he just _threw_ himself into everything – from fighting Hollows to fighting for Kon's life. It should be exhausting, to pour yourself so completely into something. Rukia couldn't remember. There had been a time when she had, but that was a long time ago and even now, she didn't like to think about it.

She had never really given mod souls a thought. That was the way of the world. Rules were made to be obeyed. Mod souls were simply an experiment gone awry. They had ceased to be useful, they had to be disposed. She took a look at Kon who was sleeping peacefully next to her, soft snores coming from his cotton nose.

Not to Ichigo. For him, life was not simply something that could be measured in terms of usefulness. Everyone deserved a chance to live. Even a mod soul, something created utterly for the benefit of someone else. Everyone had the right to make choices. And he would give his life for these choices.

She wished it didn't tug at her heart. She wished that it wouldn't make her soft. She couldn't afford to be soft. She couldn't afford to forget that she was just temporary. Even her clothes were borrowed. Her time was borrowed, and it would soon run out. She couldn't afford to forget that she didn't belong here.

And he definitely did not belong to her.

Rukia slid the closet door open noiselessly and her small feet alighted on the floor without creaking, a lotus flower floating on a river would have made more noise. She creeped silently to the edge of the bed and watched Ichigo sleep. It was her nightly ritual ever since _that day_. When the entire world seemed to slumber, she would move to his side and watch him. As if that could protect him.

She shivered at the memory. The mind numbing, paralyzing fear still came back to her. Even when she knew he was safe. Even when she could see him sleep. She had almost lost him and she had done nothing.

She had gripped her hands so hard at that moment that her fingernails had left bloody imprints on her palms. She had felt every second trickle through excruciatingly slow. Every indrawn breath carried an edge of tension and fear.

Sometimes, she wondered if she had done the right thing. She always wondered about it - Letting him fight the Grand Fisher. Seasoned shinigami had perished by its hand. And yet, his pride was at stake. She remembered those words, spoken so long ago, about two kinds of fights – those for life and those for pride.

And with her heart aching, she knew that Ichigo's pride would never forgive her. Not that it mattered, she could live without Ichigo's forgiveness. But she knew that Ichigo would never forgive himself if she had intervened. And that, Rukia could not live with.

So she had stood by the sidelines, drawn tighter than a bowstring, praying and hoping. Praying in the deepest, darkest corners of her soul, those prayers that are too important to be uttered, sentiments so powerful that they have no sound and no voice can ever say. These are the prayers of the damned, hope with reverbates with every fiber of your being.

He had not given up. Battered, bruised and bloody, he had wanted to keep fighting. But even his own power betrayed him, and he finally buckled from the fight. And even then he had not given up. He would die fighting if he had to. She had to beg him to stop.

And she had nearly cried from relief. He had survived. Bloody and torn, but he was alive. He would live and fight another day.

Ever so lightly, she touched his hair and traced the outline of his chin. She was always afraid that he would wake up but that fear didn't stop her hand. She kept her touch light, even when she felt sometimes a frantic need to touch him, to make sure that he was alright, that he wasn't hiding some wound or some other injury. She kept her hand calm even when her heart fluttered nervously like a caged bird.

There would be hell to pay when she got back. She didn't care as long as she was able to spare him.

She touched his cheek, his flesh unbearingly warm in her palm. She smiled at him and promised herself that whatever the cost, she would fight to give him his life. He deserved no less.

She gives a mental shake. She needs to get a grip. She is Kuchiki Rukia, Shinigami. She is not that weak. She is not that emotional. She will do what needs to be done. She will accept responsibility for her actions and the consequences of them. If there was any wrongdoing, it was her fault. If there was a price to be paid, she would pay it. She doesn't notice it, but even her shoulders square off and she stands straighter as her thoughts continue in this vein. With that resolve, she turned around and closed the closet door as noiselessly as she had opened it.

She never notices Ichigo's dark eyes follow her or staring at the closed closet door.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **After reading chapter 4, this seems a bit incongrous. I wrote it without much thought of the story aside from continuing it. So if the texture feels different, bear with me. Like I also said, I wanted more of a romance story between Ichigo and Rukia instead of all the implied connotations in the manga and anime. Read and review and let me know that you haven't died either.  



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